


Blessed Be the Fruit

by ethospathos



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - The Handmaid's Tale, F/M, markus/reader in future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethospathos/pseuds/ethospathos
Summary: Detroit has fallen and the Republic of Gilead emerges. Due to dangerously low reproduction rates, women known as Handmaids are forced to bear children for elite couples that have difficulty conceiving. You are now known as Ofelijah (Of-Elijah) and one of the handmaids chosen to conceive a child for Commander Kamski and his wife. After forming bonds with other handmaids and Commander Kamski’s guard and driver, Connor, you discover a resistance forming within the republic. Will you choose to fight back or accept your fate within Gilead?





	1. Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I just want to say thank you for taking the time to read this! I hope you all are just as excited as I am for this AU. Recently I’ve finished reading the handmaid’s tale novel and watching the first season of the Hulu series. I was inspired and thought why not combine two of my favorite things at the moment? The plot of this fic will be different from book/show, although some parts of this series will parallel some scenes from the novel and the show! If you haven’t heard of the handmaid’s tale, read the book, or seen the show, then I definitely recommend you look up the plot summary before reading this! I posted this fic on tumblr as well @dqnverscarol <3
> 
> also!! i'd like to apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors! I actually struggled with the ending of this chapter oops but hopefully it won't be like this in future chapters! now that i've written the second chapter already, i think i finally have a feel for this series!

* * *

 

Two drawn curtains shifted slightly as you sat on the window seat, folding your red-gloved hands over your lap. Golden rays of light that shined brilliantly through the glass, casting shadows down the wooden planks of the gritty floor and up the dingy, white plaster wall. A breeze of cool air came through the partly opened window and into the stale bedroom. A soft inhale and exhale. You extended a hand and placed it against the glass, wondering if the window would be able to open just a smidge wider if you placed a bit of pressure on it.

Chirps from birds rippled through the air, unique songs coming from various trees in the yard. What would it be like to live like the birds you spotted flying outside, to have the freedom to go wherever and do whatever you wanted?

_Want._

_Freedom._

Those words were foreign, a relic of an old world that you were once part of. Still, where you were now was not a prison, but a privilege, as Aunt Amanda said.

The morning bell began to toll and you got up from her seat. That’s how time was measured now, using bells and the grandfather clock that chimed down the hallway every hour. It was around this time where you went on your morning walk to get groceries with your shopping and walking partner.

Handmaids were never allowed to walk alone and were required by the republic to always walk in pairs, for their protection and companionship. Bullshit. What it was really was to spy on one another, only there to keep each other in check and report each other on any unorthodox behavior.

Walking out into the hallway, you followed the red colored runner down the center. You placed a hand on the glossy, oakwood railing and descended the stairs. At the bottom, there is a rack, and on it hung articles of clothing of various colors. The black was Commander Kamski, blue was Mrs. Kamski, green represented the Martha, Tina, and the red, yours. The Handmaid. On top of the red rested a stark white, tunnel-like bonnet. Grabbing your crimson cloak and bonnet, you put them on yourself before heading into the kitchen.

Tina was there, kneading bread on the butcher block countertops. She was recognized as a Martha, an infertile woman assigned to cook and clean for the home. She looked up at you and nodded in greeting. Tina paused to wipe off the flour that dusted her hands onto her apron before pulling out several tokens. 

“Eggs, milk, and beef. Got that?”

You gave her an affirmative nod and wordlessly took the tokens from her outstretched hand before grabbing the basket that sat beside the back door. You stepped out into the garden and followed the pavement to the front of the house.

In the driveway was the Commander’s guard and driver. He was carefully washing the black, expensive-looking car that he frequently drove the Commander in. You knew the man, but only his name: Connor. You’ve seen the name on his uniform and overheard it from the mouth of the Commander:  _Connor, I won’t be taking the car today. Connor, I have a meeting tomorrow morning. We can’t be late._

Connor lived next to the garage. There was never a moment where he wasn’t the epitome of emotionally unavailable. He never looked at you when you were nearby and followed every order Mrs. Kamski or Commander Kamski gave him. It wasn’t until this moment that he looked over at you and caught your gaze. His face was inexpressive at first, but suddenly, the corner of his lips rose into a lopsided smile.

Your breath hitched and you lowered your head to hide your face behind the white wings of the bonnet. Why did he do that? Why did he smile at you?

_He’s either lonely or he’s an Eye_ , you thought to herself.

You spotted your shopping partner, her back facing the gate. She donned the exact same outfit you were wearing— red dress, cloak, gloves, and white bonnet. A sister dipped in red.

The woman turned as the gate opened and carefully closed behind her. She peered at you through the tunnels of your bonnets, as if she was checking to make sure you were the right person she was supposed to be with.

Her name was Kara, but old names were forbidden. She went by the name Oftodd. You had known her since the “Red Center,” a place where fertile women were trained to be handmaids. You didn’t know much else about Kara besides that she was quiet but kind for the most part. Her face was round and her knowing, doe-like eyes were a lovely shade of blue.

“Ofelijah. Blessed be the fruit,” Kara greeted.

“May the Lord open.” You replied promptly.

Both of you walked together along the sidewalk, woven baskets in hand, and moved toward the markets.

“How’s your first post going?” She asked, her voice barely in a whisper.

“Alright. Charming home. The Commander’s wife, Chloe… she’s nice, too. I don’t see her or the commander often, though. What about you?”

Kara hesitated for a moment. “Commander Todd— well, he’s uh, angry most of the time. Doesn’t get along too well with his wife. It gets pretty bad whenever he drinks. I just try staying out of the way.”

“That’s awful.” You frowned and turned your head to face Kara. “I’m… so sorry. I wish I could do something to help you.”

“No, don’t. Don’t be sorry. It could be worse. A lot worse.” She paused for a moment. “Quiet. Checkpoint’s coming up.”

Heads bowed, you and Kara walked past guards that were armed with rifles. They stared at the both of you with scowls, almost challenging you to fall out of line. 

The market was crowded today. It made it easier to talk since the shuffling and exchanges of handmaids and Marthas overlapped one another.

“Hey,”

Another pair of handmaids walked leisurely towards you and Kara, woven baskets resting in the crease of their elbows. Offloyed. Ofmichael. Formerly known as North and Traci.  _Still_ known as North and Traci.

North quickly glanced around, careful to make sure that no one was listening in to the exchange. “Under His eye.” She said. It was half-hearted, but a socially acceptable greeting. No use getting reported by other handmaids or Marthas.

“It’s nice to you two again.” Traci smiled softly. “How’re your posts?”

“Fine,” Kara replied.

_It’s not fine. None of this is fine,_ you thought to herself. The need to scream was getting stronger, squeezing your stomach and lungs as you kept yourself composed.

North opened her mouth to speak, but the bellow of a guard telling them to keep walking caught their attention. Traci and North turned their backs, visibly upset by their visit being cut short.

“Under His Eye,” You murmured to the pair of red, retreating figures.

The rest of the shopping trip was spent in silence, with Kara offering not even a comment about the copious amount of oranges the market had that day, or how slow the checkout line was.

Kara’s stride matched yours as the two of you stepped out of the building. “Should we take the long way home down the river?”

“I can’t,” You sighed, switching the woven basket from one hand to the other. “The Ceremony is tonight. Our Martha needs time to make preparations.”

“Oh,” Kara replied in a disappointed tone.

The ceremony was a sacred tradition, at least for the Republic of Gilead and the Commanders and wives. A handmaid must lie on her back once a month and pray that the Commander makes her pregnant. To Gilead, handmaids were nothing more than walking wombs. It was sickening.

Upon arriving at the gates of the Kamski household, Kara brushed her hand against yours. It was as if she was trying to stop you, but making it seem inconspicuous about it.

“Wait—“ Her eyes met yours. “Take care of yourself.” She whispered. Kara glanced at a guard that stood across the street. She quickly pulled back, lowering her head and saying the accepted farewell. “Under His Eye.” Kara nods, her red cloak catching the wind as she turned away.

“Nice walk?”

You swivel and faced Connor, who was now carrying a wheelbarrow filled with gravel instead of cleaning the Commander’s car. His sleeves were rolled up, forehead slick with sweat, and a few brown curls of his had fallen out of place.

He wasn’t supposed to be speaking to you!  _He’s testing me_ , you thought. If he was really an Eye, he wouldn’t hesitate to report you. 

You looked away and nodded, giving him a wordless response.

“Your friend seems nice,” Connor commented, cleaning the dust from his hands with a rag.

_Friend._

A term you hadn’t heard in a while. It was a comforting word, overwhelming almost, making your eyes moist and chest clench. You supposed Kara was your friend since she’s been with you since the beginning.

When you didn’t respond, Connor peered over at your basket. “I see you’ve got oranges. Haven’t seen those in a while.”

Maybe he really was lonely, considering he was desperately trying to make conversation.

You nodded once more. Perhaps you could look at him? To see him and the world surrounding the two of you between the white cloth tunnel that framed your face? You turned your head to look at him in one quick gasp before bowing your head.

Connor was silent for a moment before he picked up the wheelbarrow in front of him. “Go in peace.” He sighed an accepted farewell.

You walked briskly towards the house. Your red cloak and skirt of your dress gently brushing your ankles as you made your way up the pavement walkway, through the garden, and through the back door.

All without another word.


	2. Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments some of you left on the first chapters! It means a lot to me <3  
> I want to take the time to say a few things. I genuinely want to take my time with this fic. I don’t want to rush to post chapters and want to put a lot of effort into my writing, you know? Plus, I want to talk about the future of this series. Although this is supposed to be an exclusively Connor x reader fic, I’ve given it some thought. I decided to bring in Markus x reader later into the plot since I plan on making him have a key role in future chapters. Or perhaps I could do a triangle of some sort? I just love Markus y'know and I haven’t seen a lot of him in fics. Either way, I’m doing my absolute best to create a fic that you all will enjoy, or maybe even cry over idk. Thank you 💖

* * *

The sitting room had its doors wide open.

Or was it the drawing room? Perhaps it was considered the living room in another life, one that was nothing more than a hazy memory.

You stepped into the room before kneeling down on a red, corduroy pillow. In front of you was the fireplace, flames curling, and swaying, crackling as they burned dry wood. The flicking flames placed you into a trance and you imagined the fire itself as a tiny sun as it casts long shadows over the room. Memories flooded your mind the longer you stared into the fire:

_The heavy door to a gymnasium opened and you were pushed forward, following the lead of a woman dressed head to toe in brown. Women sat facing forward in desks and wore red dresses and white bonnets._

_Another woman dressed in brown, older than almost everyone in the room, stood directly in front of the aisles of desks, going through what seemed to be a presentation. “They’ve made such a mess–” The projector clicked, flipping to an image of factories projecting smoke into the air, “–of everything. The air’s filled with poison, chemicals. Radiation.”_

_The mature woman looked up and smiled at you and the other fearful women that followed behind you. “Welcome to the Rachel and Leah Center, or the Red Center. If you wish to call it that.” She smiled. “Please, take a seat.”_

_You and the new arrivals took a seat at a vacant desk, one by one. Some girls placed their hands over their laps, already learning to lower their heads, and others crossed their arms, slouching in their seats in rebellion._

_“My name is Amanda Stern,” The woman up front began, walking up one of the aisles of desks, “However, it would be best if you called me Aunt Amanda. I’ve been assigned to take care of each and every one of you.”_

_“You see, the women in the old world were dirty. Filthy. But you…” Amanda pointed, “…are special girls. Privileged. Fertility is a gift directly from God.”_

_A woman with strawberry-blonde hair in a side braid scoffed, leaning back in her desk with her arms crossed over her chest._

_The class directed their attention on to her. Did she have a death wish? Amanda stopped beside the woman, holding some sort of stick in her hand— a police baton?_

_“And what might your name be, dear?” Amanda asked._

_The woman’s eyes darted from the women in red and up at Amanda. Her lip turned up into a sneer. “North… but why the hell does it matter to you?” She scoffed once more and crossed one leg over the other._

_Suddenly, Amanda poked the woman on her side with the stick she held, sending electric shocks through her. _A cattle prod._ She yelped in pain, falling from her chair._

_“Get up!” Amanda barked at the writhing woman on the floor. She looked around at the girls in desks who stared at the scene. “Eyes front! Where do your hands belong?”_

_You flinched and placed your hands over the desk, looking forward and doing your best not to be the next person hit with the cattle prod._

_“Blessed are the meek, girls,” Amanda said sweetly as she returned to her spot at the front._

Her words echoed in your head over and over.  _Keep your mouth shut. Be a good girl. Spread your legs. Blessed are the meek._

The chiming of the grandfather clock echoed down the hall, plucking you from your thoughts. It was time for the ceremony.

Footsteps entered the room and stopped behind you.

“Thanks,” A voice behind you began. It was Tina; you recognized her disgruntled voice. “For picking up oranges, I mean.”

You nodded, daring not to turn your head. “Of course,” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Another set of footsteps entered the room and stopped beside Tina. “Commander Kamski should be arriving soon.”

You recognized the raspy, yet velvety voice. It was Connor. Your muscles tensed and your mind raced. What if he brings up his interaction with you? What if he throws you under the bus and blames you— _what was there to blame though?_ Perhaps the fact that the ceremony was beginning soon didn’t help your nerves one bit.

You lowered your head and caught a glimpse of a blue skirt in the corner of your eye. You listened to the sound of clicking heels making its way to a seat off to the side. Shifting your gaze, you looked at the woman sitting in her chair with her legs crossed.

Mrs. Kamski was a beautiful woman. No wonder the Commander wedded her. Her steel-blue eyes matched the shade of her dress and her blonde locks were tucked into a low bun. Her plump, rosy lips were twisted into a smile. In another world, you would’ve envied her, or maybe even tried to become her friend. As of now, a part of you hated her. She sat up straight, hands folded over her lap as she patiently waited for her husband to enter. The room was silent, excluding the sounds of the crackling wood in the fireplace.

“Well. He’s late,” She breathed, smoothing out her dress. “What is it about men?” She let out a breathy laugh, glancing at Connor.

Commander Kamski entered the room, his footsteps slow and heavy as he made his way in front of the fireplace.

“Good evening,” He began, placing his hands behind his back. Commander Kamski was clean cut with the 5 o’clock shadow on his face and donning his usual black suit and tie. The fire behind him added a red-yellow hue around his form, making him appear more infernal than angelic.

His blue, deep-set eyes landed on you. “Now, let’s get started, shall we?” Without a moment to spare, Kamski turned and unlocked a box that rested on the mantle above the fireplace and pulled out a minute book. A bible. He faced his private audience and opened a marked page. Commander Kamski nodded towards Chloe before reciting a passage aloud:

“And when Rachel saw that she bare Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and said unto Jacob, Give me children, or else I die,” Kamski glanced up at Tina and Connor before continuing.

“And she said, Behold my maid Bilhah, go in unto her; and she shall bear upon my knees, that I may also have children by her. And she gave him Bilhah her handmaid to wife: and Jacob went in unto her. And Bilhah conceived–” He closed the book. “–and bare Jacob a son.”

Out of the sitting room, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom you went. You lie on your back, fully clothed between Mrs. Kamski’s legs. She too is fully clothed. She held your hands above your head, red dress skirt hiked to your hips and your legs spread at the edge of the bed.

You didn’t want to be there. You wanted to be anywhere but there. You felt detached— hollow. A ghost in a shell.

It wasn’t like you didn’t sign up for this. However, you were given the choice to take part in  _this_  or be exiled to a place known as The Colonies, shoveling radioactive material. Now was one of those times where you’ve regretted your decision. You’d rather deal with the skin peeling off your bones than endure the ceremony.

With your jaw clenched and eyes glued to the ceiling, you noticed a few yellow spots scattered here and there. You imagined the odd-shaped, yellow stains to be dancers, twirling and leaping around the glass chandelier that hung above you. The chandelier had about 60 glass pieces hanging off of it, sparkling in the fluorescent light. You counted each and every one of them.

Once Commander Kamski finished, he pulled away, cleaning himself up with a handkerchief and before zipping up his pants. Without a word, he left the room, adjusting his tie on the way out.

Mrs. Kamski cleared her throat and released your hands before scooting back and swinging her legs to the edge of the bed. You turned your head to look at her and saw her moist eyes.

“Ma’am?” You asked, your voice raspy.

She blinked and stared down at her lap for a moment before staring at you, her lips turning into a wistful smile. “Sorry, I just—“ She bit her lip, touching her wedding band. “Can you leave, please?”

“Well, uh, if-if I lay here for a few minutes, that’ll increase my likelihood of—“

“I’d really appreciate it if you would do what I ask.  _Please_.” Mrs. Kamski pleaded. 

This was expected, at least on a night like the ceremony. She was unfit to perform such an… intimate act with her husband and conceive a child of her own. Nonetheless, it frightened you to see her normally smiling and kind expression turn into a helpless and tearful one.

“Yes, Mrs. Kamski.” You replied before slowly sitting up. You gathered your undergarments and jerked them up to your hips. The bunched material of the skirt of your dress dropped down to your ankles as you stood and headed to your room for the night.

The bed– _your bed_ –creaked under your weight as you tucked yourself in, pulling the thin covers up to your chin. You stare up at the plaster ceiling above you. There is no breeze in the room, despite the window being cracked open. The drawn curtains glimmered from the moonlight that illuminated your bedroom at night. The moon was the same, at least. It was consistent, it’s presence unchanging before and after Gilead.

It was getting harder to sleep. Harder to breathe in the stuffy bedroom.

Songs that you vaguely recalled occupied your mind as you lay there, slowly mouthing along with the rhythm inside your head.

_Woke up this morning, shine with the rising sun. Three little birds sat on my doorstep. Don’t worry about a thing. ‘Cause every little thing is gonna be alright._

Yes, you knew that you might’ve butchered the lyrics. Still, you clung on to some string of hope that everything would indeed be alright.

The feeling of something wet trickle between your legs and onto the bedsheets beneath you made you freeze.

 _I can feel the Commander’s cum running out of me,_ you thought.  _I can smell it._

You can feel the blood rush to your ears and feel your heart pounding hard in your chest. Your ribs heaved as if bound by ropes, straining to inflate your lungs. Why were you sweating? Bile threatened to rise from your stomach and up your throat. You had to get away.

Throwing the covers off your body, you got up and walked across the cold hardwood floors. You matched your steps with the ticking grandfather clock as you descended the stairs. They creaked with each step you took, but luckily they weren’t loud enough to wake anyone.

A small stream of light poured from the kitchen as you made it down from your last step on the stairs. Who was up? Was it Tina? Chloe? Commander Kamski?

Like the oblivious girlfriend from the beginning of a horror movie, you walked closer to the kitchen doorway, leading yourself into your potential demise.

In the dim light of the kitchen, you could make out the features of someone holding a cup and bringing it to their mouth. You squinted your eyes slightly and spotted a noticeable strand of hair hanging over the individual’s forehead.

Of course, it had to be Connor.

Connor didn’t bat an eye as he watched you cautiously step into the kitchen.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked after taking a sip of what you guessed was coffee.

_No, Connor. I feel like I’m going to explode and need to get out of here._

“Thirsty,” You lied as you walked to a cupboard to grab a glass. You filled the cup with water from the faucet before gulping down every last drop. You sighed as you placed the glass in the sink and looked over at Connor.

Why does he keep staring at you?

“Coffee?” You gestured to the ceramic mug in his hands.

“No, ah,” He glanced down and looked up at you with a sheepish, close-lipped smile. “It’s just milk.”

“Oh,” Was all you said, focusing your sight on an embroidered design of a dishrag and nervously fiddling with your fingers.

_Milk. What an interesting beverage to choose in the middle of the night._

Finding the deafening silence unbearable, you decided to retire for the night.

“Well, goodnight.” You nodded towards him. “Under His Eye.”

“Wait—“

You stopped in your tracks, your eyes darting from the floor and back to him.

“Are you okay?”

Those three words sent you into a shock. Where did this newfound concern for you come from? Actually, why did he now choose to acknowledge your existence? It was unexpected, knowing that a day or two before he wouldn’t look at you. 

“I’m…” You felt your chest squeeze from anxiety and eyes moisten. Inhaling through your nose, you stood up straighter and offered Connor a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just fine. Thank you. Have a… blessed night.” You spun on your heels and made your way up the stairs to return to your room.

As you made it to your room and finally laid down on the narrow mattress of your bed, Connor’s question repeated in your head like a broken record.

_Are you okay?_

_Are you okay?_

_…Am I okay?_

 


	3. Particicution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I originally planned on posting this on Friday, but a few things came up and I had to focus on those issues before posting the next chapter of this fic! I just want to thank everyone for the support. It means the world to me and motivates me to write more! Love you guys! <3

* * *

It’s morning again.

You sit on the window seat, waiting for commands while watching other handmaids, Marthas, and wives travel in pairs along the sidewalks. In the driveway below was Connor, washing Commander Kamski’s car. This was something he performed every morning, spraying and scrubbing at whatever piece of imperfection that happened to land on the sleek vehicle.

Both of you knew you were up last night. You knew you weren’t supposed to talk to Connor. He hasn’t reported you yet, so that was good news so far. There wasn’t a black van outside to haul you away. The question as to  _why_  he didn’t gnawed away at your mind.

Was he trying to become friends? Allies?

It was hard to establish friendships nowadays; you never knew if someone was genuinely pious or simply putting on an act. You never knew if you were truly being spied on. Kara was your friend; you definitely knew that. You even considered North and Traci your friends as well. Perhaps the three were the only ones you could trust now.

You thought about your life prior to Gilead— your job, hobbies, friends, family. You wondered if any of your friends or family were still alive, living in Canada. Did they forget about you? Or did you still cross their minds from time to time?

The church bells echoed throughout the air, tolling thrice. Three bells. There’s a salvaging planned.

Sighing, you bowed your head and made your way downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Blessed day,” You nodded towards Tina.

Tina hummed in acknowledgment, focusing on chopping the herbs that lay on the cutting board in front of her.

“I’ve been called—“

Tina stopped chopping and gave you a deadpan stare. “I heard. So now I’ve got my work to do and your shopping.”

 _So much for being polite_ , you thought to yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, folding your hands in front of you and bowing your head. Feeling your cheeks redden, you walked to the coat rack to grab your crimson cloak and white bonnet.

“Under His Eye,” You said as you headed out the back door.

“Under His Eye.” Tina sighed behind you.

Out on the sidewalk were lines of Handmaids, all walking in the same direction. Gulping, you unlatched the locks of the gate and stepped out, your eyes examining the red bodies that passed by. Their footsteps matched to a “two-four” rhythm as they walked— like a march of an army.

You found a gap between two handmaids and slid in-between them, following them towards an area that was once a park. You walked past Guardians and kept your head down, careful to not make eye contact and stare at the assault rifles they held in their arms. You managed to block out the sounds of their radios, unable to make out the unintelligible voices that came from the speakers.

The park was much greener than it once was, but the bushes and grass were overgrown. Gilead propaganda posters hung from almost every tree and light pole you passed by. No longer was it a place where children and dogs played, or a place friends, families, and couples came to meet. Its purpose now was to host public executions.

“Blessed be the fruit,” A voice said beside you. Kara. You recognized her voice. Handmaids were good at that; finding each other by the sound of their voices, since they’re unable to look at each other in the presence of Eyes and Guardians.

“May the Lord open,” You replied softly.

All handmaids, including you and Kara, divided into separate groups. Kara followed you as you picked a red, velvet pillow to stand in front of.

You glanced at Kara and to the handmaid that stood to the other side of you.

“Ofelijah?” The other handmaid said in a hushed voice. North.

“Hey,” You bowed your head again, this time smiling to yourself.

“Hey,” She replied. North paused for a moment before speaking once more. “Did you hear about the revolution that’s happening?”

“The what?”

“The revolution. People are fighting back. There was one going on nine or ten miles from here.” North leaned in closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You should join us.”

“‘Us’?” You furrowed your brows, giving her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a network.”

You shook your head, hesitating for a moment. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m that sort of person.”

“No one is until they have to be.” North glanced around for a moment, careful to make sure no one else was listening. “Commander Kamski is an important man. Very high up. You should find out more.”

“More of what?”

“Anything.”

“How do you know about this?” You turned your head towards north, furrowing your brows in confusion. Was North part of a resistance, too?

“There’s a leader. Markus. I think that’s his name.”

 _Markus?_  Markus! You knew him, before Gilead. The both of you were friends. Family. The last time you saw him was when both of you were trying to get to your flight to Canada. The two of you were separated. Markus was allowed to pass, but you, on the other hand, were held back. You remembered getting your documents handed to you and seeing the word  _“Fertile”_  stamped in red letters that took up half of the page. Markus refused to leave you behind. His protests ultimately caused a guardian to lose his temper and strike him with the butt of his rifle. They dragged you away in one direction and Markus, the other.

This whole time you believed he was dead. But Markus was alive. He was fighting back.

“Oh?” One handmaid turned to look at the two of you, an innocent smile plastered on her face. “He’s dead.”

“Quiet!” A guardian snapped. The handmaid obeyed and turned back around.

Your eyes grew wide this time, unable to process what the estranged handmaid just told you.  _Wait_ — was she talking about Markus? He was said to be alive a moment ago! You called out to the handmaid again, hoping, praying she didn’t mean Markus.

“Who’s dead?” You hissed.

“Markus. Yeah, They got ‘em. Shot him on the spot, so, uh… he’s dead.” She shrugged before turning around once more.

It felt like the air had just been knocked out of your lungs. You couldn’t breathe and tears threatened to prick your eyes. You reached a hand to clutch your chest, trying to gain the strength to not fall over and cry. At that moment, all hope had been shattered. You were crushed. Devastated.  _Furious_. Markus was supposed to be the one to survive. He needed to survive. How  _dare_  Gilead take away another thing that you cherished! How dare they take a good soul?

“Don’t listen to her. She’s lost her head,” North reassured you. “The resistance is  _alive_.”

You didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“You may kneel, girls.” Aunt Amanda spoke through a microphone, walking to the middle of a platform that laid in front of the rows of handmaids. “Quickly!”

You stared ahead, unblinking as you knelt onto the red pillow.

“Well,” Aunt Amanda breathed, looking at all of you. “Good morning, girls.”

“Good morning, Aunt Amanda,” The handmaids replied Collectively.

“I’m sure we’re all aware of the unfortunate circumstances that bring us together on this beautiful morning when I’m certain we would all rather be doing something else.” Aunt Amanda sighed. “But duty is a hard taskmistress, and it is in the name of duty that we are here today.” A handcuffed man was brought out by two guardians and placed at the center of the platform.

Aunt Amanda circled the cuffed man for a moment before finally stopping by his side. “This man has been convicted of  _rape_.” She gestured to the slouching man.

Handmaid’s around you gasped, twisting their heads to look at each other.

“As you know, the penalty for rape is death.” Aunt Amanda continued. “This disgusting creature has given us no choice.  _Am I correct,_  girls?”

“Yes, Aunt Amanda.” Replied the handmaids and nodding along.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and glared at the grass below you, your knuckles turning white as you clenched the skirt of your dress. You lowered your head, droplets of tears falling and leaving small, wet spots on your skirt.

Kara glanced over at you and placed a hand on your knee. “You okay?” A guard walked by and she quickly pulled her hand away.

God, were you seething with rage. You shifted your focus onto Aunt Amanda, watching her speak with rigor.

“But that is not the worst of it. You know I do my very best to protect all of you. The world can be quite an ugly place, but we cannot wish that ugliness away. We cannot hide from that ugliness.” Aunt Amanda pointed to the man behind her. “This man raped a Handmaid. She was pregnant... and the baby  _died_!“ Sounds of shock erupted from the Handmaids.

Handmaids in front and behind you gasped incredulously. Some began to pray, others openly cried.

“Quiet, now! Girls, up.” Aunt Amanda gestured for you all to stand. You and the handmaids quickly stood.

“Wings,” Amanda instructed next.

Everyone pulled off their white bonnets and placed them neatly on the red cushion beneath them. The man from the platform was brought down to the grass and forced down onto his knees.

“You may come forward and form a circle.”

You followed as handmaids formed a circle around the kneeling man. His eyes were puffy, and his face was bloodied and swollen. He swayed a bit; he was probably given pills or an injection to keep him calm so he wouldn’t fight back. It was better that way.

“You all know the rules for a particicution. When I blow the whistle, what you do is up to you until I blow it again.” Aunt Amanda nodded towards the circle of Handmaids.

Hatred filled your mouth like spit. You couldn’t look inside the man; you didn’t even try.

It was times like this where you and the handmaids were permitted anything. To release pent up emotions. To do what they wished to do to their commanders and everyone around them.  _This_  was freedom.

The man choked out a few words. “I didn’t—“

A high shrill from Aunt Amanda’s silver whistle filled the air.

There is a surge forward, like a general admission crowd at a concert, determined to get to the front. Red spreads everywhere, a tide of cloth. Something primal rose within you. Something ravenous and hungry for flesh and blood. You didn’t protest one bit.

You propelled yourself forward, leading the pack of red. You force the man down to his side and kick his stomach, one, two, three times before bringing a fourth painful kick to his head. Instead of gasps and prayers, there was growling, yelling, and banshee screams. There’s kicking, pounding, punching, scratching, and pulling. A handmaid spits on the bloodied man and continues to kick her foot into his groin. Other handmaids cheered and some desperately tried pushing themselves to the front to get a few punches in.

The man, on the verge of death, was pulled to his feet and tossed left and right. Tufts of hair flew up into the air as handmaids tugged at his scalp.

You felt blood coat your fists as you continued attacking him, screaming as loud as your vocal cords could allow you. Tears streamed down your face, only thinking about everything that Gilead had taken from you.

The whistle blows again, but all don’t stop at once. You quickly backed away, breathing heavily, before guardians could approach and forcibly pull you off. You stared down at your bloody, aching hands and back at the convicted man.

He was now an  _it_. A bloody  _pulp_.

Dazed and ears ringing, you hastily wiped your hands on your cloak, leaving slightly darker red streaks on the fabric. A white sheet was placed over the body, blood quickly staining the pristine cloth.

Memories you had with Markus were coming and going, appearing in your mind in fragments:

_Markus drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, smiling as he drove down the highway. The music was blaring, causing the car to thump and vibrate from the bass. You danced in the passenger’s seat, occasionally setting your hand out of the window to feel the wind hit your skin._

_“Rise up this mornin', smiled with the risin' sun! Three little birds pitch by my doorstep! Singin' sweet songs of melodies pure and true, sayin', this is my message to you-ou-ou!” You sang loudly, not caring about anyone or anything in the world._

_You were at peace._

_“C’mon Markus, sing it!” You encouraged him._

_Markus chuckled before joining you, singing and bobbing his head along to the song. “Singin' don't worry 'bout a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be all right."_

“Ofelijah?” Kara placed a hand on your arm, standing in front of you and staring at you through the white tunnel of your bonnet. “Are you okay?”

_No._

“I’m fine.” You nodded, turning to follow the exiting handmaids. “Let’s just take the long way home, yeah?”

Kara walked by your side, the both of you keeping your heads lowered as you passed by listening guardians.

The lake looked nice today. The Detroit skyline reflected from the black-green surface, shimmering and tranquil as you and Kara passed by.

“Did you know him?” Kara disturbed the silence between the two of you. “The guy that North was talking about?”

“Yeah,” You nodded. “Before all of this. We were close. We, uh, got separated at the airport when we were trying to get to Canada.”

“I’m sorry,” Kara replied. You knew she felt genuinely sorry. Everyone has lost somebody nowadays. “I had—“ She shook her head to correct herself, “— _have_  a daughter.”

You looked over at Kara, surprised by what you had just learned.

She continued to speak when you didn’t say anything. “Her name is Alice. She’s nine now. I hope to see her again someday… at least a quick glance, just to see how much she’s grown.”

Before Kara could open her mouth again, the sky began to rumble. Clouds oozed and billowed over the sun, casting gray hues on the ground below. The wind began to pick up, pricking at your cheeks and hands. The both of you wordlessly picked up your pace, trying to make it home before the oncoming storm hits.

As you were approaching the gates of the Kamski household, Kara moved closer to you and spoke quiet enough for only you to hear.

“There’s an _Eye_ in your house,” Kara warned.

“How—“

“I’m suspecting it to be Commander Kamski’s lap dog.”  _Connor_. She glanced at the home and back at you. “Be careful.”

This time, Kara didn’t say the accepted farewell. She left without a word, keeping her head lowered as she briskly walked down the sidewalk and disappearing around a corner.

Droplets of rain began to fall one by one. What began as a gentle “pitter-patter,” turned into a shower, hitting hard and not slowing for the impact of the ground. Swiftly, you went through the gate and secured it behind you, feeling the cold, falling liquid soak through your cloak and dress.

The curtains of the living room were parted. Behind the glass window stood Connor.

Your heart was caught in your throat as you made eye contact with him. Dread gripped onto your stomach and set your face in a rigor mortis like state, locking your teeth together.

Connor stood there for a moment longer before turning and disappearing somewhere in the house. Who was Connor, _really?_  A friend? Or a potential threat?

Your body screamed at you to sprint down the street, to save yourself while you still could, yet your feet stayed planted onto the cement driveway.

Here in Gilead, you realized, there’s nothing but darkness and secrets.

Here, someone is  _always_  watching.


End file.
